


red right ankle

by luckypennies



Category: The Darkest Minds Series - Alexandra Bracken
Genre: Cole tries to angst in peace but Ruby keeps interrupting, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckypennies/pseuds/luckypennies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Cole builds a cabin in the middle of the mountains, and Ruby is dubious of all of it - up to and including his stupid beard.</p><p>Contains In The Afterlight spoilers - don't read if you haven't finished the series!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh geez. I haven't posted fic online since I was like 13. So basically: I don't know what I'm doing.
> 
> Un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

She showed up to his house on a Thursday out of the blue.

 

“How did you even know I lived here?” He demanded, squinting at her.

 

“Your brother told me,” Ruby said, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you gonna let me in or not?”

 

He did - partially because she’d probably just ram the door in if he didn't. She stepped over the threshold, and he took one of the paper bags out of her arms, kicking the door shut behind them. “How’s the leg?” He asked.

 

Her face twisted momentarily into a grimace as she followed him into the small kitchen, setting her bag down and beginning to unload what looked like the entire contents of a grocery store onto the counter.

 

“Better,” Ruby said. “Hurts like hell sometimes, still. But I can walk without the cane now.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Cole said, and meant it. The last time he’d seen her, she’d still been hobbling around the hospital on crutches with a cast on. She’d glossed over her injuries in that way Ruby always did, like everyone was overreacting and she hadn't almost died or anything. He’d asked her Grams, because he hadn't gotten a straight answer out of Ruby.

 

“Our girl’s stubborn,” the woman had chuckled. Her expression lost a little of its lightness. “The doctors told us she'll be slow to heal. She’ll walk, but might not be able to do much besides that for a while.”

 

Cole had understood, perhaps in a way Ruby’s family hadn't, what that meant for the kid. He could understand the brave face she put on, too. After being a soldier for so long, relying on your body to carry you forward and keep you safe, being handicapped in such a way must’ve felt like they’d cut her leg off. They weren’t at war anymore - not outright, at least - but Lee had kept him up to date over the weeks with her recuperation. He’d heard in vague, glossed-over details of Ruby’s frustration with her progress, frustration with the doctors who still looked at her like she was a thing they longed to dissect. But she seemed to be moving well enough today, Cole thought, watching her dart about the kitchen, finding places to store dry and canned goods, boxes of cereal and bottles of water, vegetables and an entire cardboard box of what looked like oranges.

 

Apparently she had Thoughts about his vitamin intake - he knew that because she threw an orange at his chest and said, “You look gross and you need more calcium.”

 

He leaned back against the counter, peeling his orange, watching her. Her hair was longer than he remembered, and healthier looking than he had ever seen it. Apparently with proper shampoo and conditioning care, it had some natural curl to it, thrown up as it was in a sagging ponytail at the back of her head. The t-shirt she was wearing looked big enough that he could guess it was probably one she had pilfered from Lee’s closet, and the cutoffs displayed the scarring on her leg. Her eyes were tired looking, lined with shadows, but her skin was healthy. She was well-fed, she’d slept more than 30 minutes the past few days.

 

And was also glaring at him. “Why are you staring at me.”

 

He chewed an orange slice, smiling benignly. “Why are you in my house?”

 

Ruby’s nostrils flared, and she shoved a bundle of celery (honestly, what was he supposed to do with that much celery?) into the fridge and shut the door with her hip, leaning against it and crossing her arms. “Why haven’t you talked to me since you took off? I had to learn from Liam that you went and built yourself a house in the goddamn middle of the mountains. And he only knew because your mother blackmailed the information out of you.” She met his eyes squarely, challenging. “Consider this an assessment. If you genuinely need the space, I’ll leave. If this is just you holding yourself up alone out here because you’re feeling sorry for yourself and want to mope, then I’ll kick your ass.”

 

He felt a slow smile pulling at his lips. It was evidently not the reaction Ruby had been expecting, because she bristled slightly like she was offended.

 

“What?” She demanded.

 

Cole huffed a laugh, shaking his head faintly.

 

He grabbed an orange from the box, pressing it into her hands as he passed.

 

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just good to see you, Gem.”

 

He heard the sounds of an orange peel ripping, and didn’t need to be facing her to picture the embarrassed frown on her face as she muttered, “Cause I’m a damn pleasure, Stewart.”

 

 

 

 

 

They ended up out on the front porch, sitting side-by-side on the steps, eating their oranges in companionable silence.

 

The air was achingly humid - summer in West Virginia was no more pleasant than it was in Virginia proper. Ruby could hear cicadas droning in the distance, the occasional bird sound, a scuffle of a squirrel or a rabbit. She’d been so used to the silence - of being silent for fear of being spotted by PSF’s or civilians - that the switch back to some semblance of a regular life, whatever that meant these days, had been a little jarring. The first time Grams had taken her out shopping to get new clothes to the handful of stores that had managed to get themselves back up and running, Ruby had spent 80% of the time hiding in the dressing rooms, hands shaking, trying not to panic at being surrounded by people - by adults.

 

The IAAN kids and their families were still pushing back against the government’s orders to put the kids who refused the surgery on reservations. Some of the Green kids were having luck - there wasn’t much trouble they could get up to. But Ruby knew, no matter how optimistic Chubs insisted on being, that no one was going to allow the Oranges and the Reds of the world assimilate back into society. For as many of them were clamoring for a chance to have their abilities taken away, just as many were uncertain or insulted by the idea. Ruby had made her peace with it from the minute she had been pulled out of her home as a child - that ‘ _normal_ ’ would never happen to her again. The houses for the PSI kids were currently under construction, and it wouldn't be long before one of those government-issued letters arrived on her doorstep, forcing her to make the choice for herself.

 

Grudgingly, Ruby could understand the appeal of this house.

 

Tucked away as it was, the only way Ruby had been able to find it was a map Liam had drawn for her. There was no such thing as neighbors on this mountain, and no chance of someone accidentally wandering out this far unless they were well and truly lost. No matter how pissed she was that he had up and left with little more than a passing wave, Ruby had to respect Cole’s quest for peace. Or, at the very least, a bit of silence in the world that was still no less complicated for people like them.

 

He was a little less wild around the eyes. Ruby unconsciously matched the two images up against each other in her mind; the Children’s League Cole who had always been tired and strained behind his smirk and quips, whose fingers twitched with nervous energy it had been too dangerous to let out. And this Cole, sitting relaxed as Ruby’d ever seen him, eating an orange and looking out into the valley below the mountain with calm, clear eyes. He didn’t look happy, but he no longer looked two steps from the edge of something unforgivable.

 

“So what is it you do out here?” Ruby asked, breaking the silence at last. “Chop wood? Get drunk and read Bukowski?”

 

Cole lofted a brow at her. “You know Bukowski?”

 

She ripped off a chunk of orange rind, tossing it away into the grass. “I have layers.”

 

In the absence of kids to keep an eye on and plans to be running through, Ruby had taken to reading. Outside was still dangerous, but inside her parents house - _her_ house - it felt like a bubble of safety it was okay to curl up in. Ruby had taken to raiding all the bookshelves in the house, hoarding them up in her room and reading through any and all books she could get her hands on. Her dad was pleased by this, and they had spent hours many nights just sitting and talking about whatever book she had read that day. There wasn’t a lot of poetry, but her father did have a soft spot for Bukowski.

 

“I didn’t doubt that for a minute, Gem,” Cole said, flicking the remnants of his own orange out into the yard, brushing his hands off on his jeans. Ruby watched him rest his elbows on his knees, considering her question.

 

“First two days,” he said, “I slept. Then I got drunk, and passed out for another day. Fourth day the hangover hit, so mostly I just laid around on the floor feeling sorry for myself. Then I got up and showered and ate real food and cleaned the place up some.” He tipped his head back to indicate the cabin behind them. “The place was in okay shape, but it needed a little TLC. Still needs some work, but I’m not in any hurry. Got all the time in the world.”

 

Ruby tried to picture a hungover Cole in an apron attacking the cabin with a duster and a bottle of cleaner. Somehow, the image didn’t look right.

 

“And you?” He asked, propping his head up on his fist, looking at her with those eyes that stared right through her skull. “How have you been handling our lives getting ripped out from under us?”

 

The token protest that _things were better now_ died before it could crawl its way out of her throat.

 

“Fine,” she said, averting her own eyes. “All things considered. I have my family back. My friends are all okay. We’re alive, through some miracle.” Ruby cut him a look, like _don’t think I forgot about that time you almost got your dumb ass killed_.

 

Cole gave her an arch look right back; _that was_ one _time_.

 

Ruby extended her legs, feeling her knees pop, feeling the strain in her shin that would probably never fully go away. “But a lot of us aren’t alive. There are thousands of kids we were too late to save. Buried in ditches and graves with no markings. Their parents will probably never know what happened to them, and they won’t ever get a proper burial. I probably knew some of those kids, plenty of them went missing when I was in Thurmond. That girl Ashley from my cabin, and...and Jude.”

 

Cole nodded slowly. “For the record, you also saved thousands of kids, too. If your stupid, brave self hadn’t gone back into Thurmond, the camps would still be up and running. Yeah, a ton of really awful shit happened, and there’s nothing that will ever make that okay. But you can’t dismiss the kids who are back home with their families right now.”

 

“I’m not,” Ruby protested irritably, although she knew even as she said it that it wasn’t strictly true.

 

Cole hummed vaguely, and held his silence a moment longer before standing abruptly, gestured her to follow him, and disappeared around the side of the cabin. Bewildered, Ruby followed. By the time she rounded the corner, he was pulling an axe out of a stump in the middle of the yard, hefting it in one hand and raising an eyebrow at her.

 

“I was joking about the wood cutting,” Ruby groused, moving warily closer.

 

He grinned, eyes twinkling. “Had to do something between shots and stanzas. Come on, Gem, don’t be shy.”

 

She took the axe, if only to shut him up. It was heavier than she had expected, and Ruby adjusted her grip, measuring the weight in her palms.

 

“I’ve never done this before,” she pointed out dryly, giving him a look.

 

Cole looked undaunted, and smiled. “That’s okay. I can teach you.”


	2. Chapter 2

“My god,” Cate pronounced. “You’ve gone native.”

 

Elbow deep in dirt, Cole glanced over his shoulder, squinting up at the woman that was standing several feet behind him. He had to give it to her- no one else would’ve been able to sneak up on him like that. Well, sneak up on him and live.

 

“Fancy seeing you here, Connor,” he drawled, returning his attention to the hole he was digging. “A mighty coincidence.”

 

“Is that an apple tree sapling?”

 

“Plum,” he grunted.

 

There was a moments silence, then Cate’s bewildered sounding, “Why would you need a plum tree?”

 

Cole sat back on his heels, turning slightly to give her the full effect of his Unimpressed Look. “Can I help you with something?”

 

Cate frowned briefly, averting her eyes to sweep around the yard and surrounding trees. Even in her civvies - neatly pressed trousers, periwinkle button up, and a blazer - she looked like she was scanning the area for snipers.

 

“Ruby told me you were here,” Cate said.

 

“Could’ve guessed that myself, thanks.”

 

Cate didn’t say anything.

 

He eyed her critically. Her spine was ramrod straight under that no-nonsense blazer, though she had to be cooking in the thing considering it was nearing on 100 degrees.

 

Heaving a sigh, Cole rose to his feet, brushing off his hands carelessly on his already dirty jeans, and gestured her wordlessly inside. Cole said a little prayer of thanks for the air conditioning, which had been the first thing he’d fixed upon moving himself in, as they stepped inside.

 

“Water?” He asked, making his way into the kitchen to clean off his hands.

 

“No thank you,” Cate said. She wasn’t subtle about the way she looked around the cabin, examining the sparse bookshelf in the corner of the living room, grimacing at the tacky rug underneath the coffee table.

 

“Vodka?” He offered wryly.

 

She paused. “Sure,” she said.

 

Cole narrowed his eyes, drying his hands off on the kitchen towel. Well, now he knew something was wrong. Actually, several somethings had to be wrong on a cataclysmic scale for Connor to have sought him out all the way out here, breaking both of their tenuous handles on peace, and take him up on his offer of booze, to boot.

 

Nonetheless, he wouldn’t have her make him out to be a liar, or a shrewd, so Cole snagged the bottle of vodka out from one of the kitchen cabinets, unscrewing the cap and pouring two generous helpings into two clean tumblers.

 

Before he could offer her ice or some kind of mixer, Cate appeared at his shoulder, plucked one of the glasses off the counter, and downed it in one.

 

Fuck. Someone was dead.

 

Cate stared at him. “Why on earth would you think that?”

 

Cole scowled at her, following her back into the living room and ignoring his own glass. “Why else would you turn up here out of the blue? No offense, Connor, but we’ve never been drinking buddies. You didn’t like me from day one, and just because we can be professional when we have to be doesn’t mean we’re besties.”

 

“I don’t not like you,” Cate scowled. “You’re just damn irritating. You never listen to what I say and -” She cut herself off, flexing her jaw before speaking again in calmer tones, “I’m here because the governors made their ruling this morning.”

 

Christ. Cole regretted not downing his own drink and another besides.

 

Cate didn’t look at him as she said, “The proposal was overruled. The IAAN kids will have to live on government approved land if they don’t agree to the surgery.”

 

Well, that was no surprise. He told her as much.

 

Nostrils flaring, Cate rounded on him. “It doesn’t bother you? That after everything that happened, after everything we did, that nothing has changed? The kids are still scared out of their minds and the families are just as confused. It’s still chaos out there, but I guess you wouldn’t know that, tucked away up here on your mountain top as you are.”

 

Cole pointedly did not rise to the bait as he leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. “Of course it bothers me,” he said calmly. “It goddamn pisses me off. But what did you expect, Connor? That the kids would be free from the camps and that we’d all hold hands and sing kumbaya and ride off into the sunset?” Cate flinched, and he tried to gentle his tone as he continued, “That was never an option, and you know it. I’ve been prepared for this to happen since before that proposal even reached their desks. There’s no fixing it, Connor.”

 

She sat down heavily on the ancient couch, dragging a hand through her hair. “I can’t accept that,” she muttered. “I cannot accept that we’ve come this far only to still be in stagnant waters. It’ll just take time. You’ll see.”

 

Part of him envied that unshakable faith in humanity - that people would rise up over their own prejudices, their own nature. Most of him just pitied her.

 

“How does that even work?” He asked once the silence had stretched a little too long. “The only kids in the country are infected. IAAN knocked the population down a few good pegs, and I’m sure plenty of the kids will agree to the surgery, but still. I can’t imagine we have enough spare land to be building new houses and shit. They might as well just keep the damn people where they are and move out the childless couples and old people to their own reservations. Or kick them over the fence into Canada.”

 

Cate’s lip twitched upward, and she huffed a soft laugh. “That’s what I’ve spent most of my day arguing. But they wouldn’t hear it.” She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “The meeting is probably still going on. I left Charles in charge, and between him and Senator Cruz, they’ll probably be there until Sunday.” Cate rose to her feet, scoffing. “Serves them right. Crusty old bastards.”

 

Cole grinned.

 

Clearing her throat, Cate fussed with the hem of her blazer, smoothing down a few imaginary wrinkles in her shirt. “Anyway, that’s all. I just came to deliver the news. Everyone says hi, by the way. Your brother said something about watching out for mountain lions.”

 

“He’s awfully dead set on me getting eaten by something.”

 

“He cares about you.”

 

Cole shivered exaggeratedly, rubbing his arms. “You’ll give me hives with that kind of talk.”

 

Cate scowled at him, and just like that, they slid back into their usual dynamics. It was comfortable and familiar, and Cole was glad that they had passed the part where heart-to-hearts occurred.

 

“Good luck with your orchard,” Cate flung over her shoulder, already sailing out the front door.

 

“Good luck oiling up those crusty old men,” he called after her.

 

The middle finger sent in his direction was the last he saw of her.

 

 


End file.
